The Dark Gateway of the Mind
by kaybet
Summary: Or rather, The Clown's return. Set after the Arkham Knight and the fate of the Clown Prince of Crime. But can he weasel his way out of the dark, and back into the spotlight that was once Bruce's? Or will he be trapped in that cage, left to rot, forever? Rating may change, T and up.
1. Chapter 1

**Here's a Joker fanfic, based off of the Arkham Games series, which are my favorite games of all times. I haven't been able to play the Arkham Knight, but I know what goes on and how it ends. This is a continuation of that.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned the Joker and Batman, there'd be a hell lot more going on then what there is today :)**

He sat in the dark, cold, dank cell, huddled in a corner, long legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Around the cell, partially around his corner, as he dubbed it, there were scratches, tallies, counting the days, or at least what he perceived as days. It was really only night here, nothing ever changed, nothing ever moved, and it was driving him absolutely barmy! Well, at least more than he was before.

Sometimes he could hear things, though. He didn't know if it was his own madness, his imagination chasing after him or even Batsy's own thoughts... He hoped they were dear Bruce's -At least that would make things interesting.

The first day, or night, he was here, the Joker was not willing to admit defeat. He scoured the tiny cell for anything, anyway for him to get out and back into the passengers seat of Bruce's head. Now, he was in the trunk, and it seemed there was no way out. There hardly was anything even in the cell itself, save for a uncomfortable bed, steel sink, and toilet bowl. The mirror above the sink was shattered within an hour of him being in there. Right now he was clutching a long shard of it like a security blanket, even though it sliced through his glove and palm like they were made of butter. The pain was minimal, and he wished there was more just so he could ground himself. He found out the hard way, awhile back, that even trying to slit his own throat ended up in only blood loss, no death, and just a little pain.

Sounds reverberated through his cell, loud enough to make it sway and for him to cover his ears, not noticing as the sharp end of the glass shard dig deep into his shoulder. It was a deep sound, like a church bell, ringing in his ears. But when he focused more, it sounded like chuckling.

"What is the Bats doing?" He wondered aloud, wincing on how dry and hoarse his own voice sounded. The sound soon stopped, but the cell continued to rock, slowly, just enough to make him feel slightly seasick. Dropping the blood covered shard and using the wall as support to get up, the Joker made his way over to the cell door, the only place in the cell that he hadn't been since the Batman's betrayal.

Batman himself was there, just beyond the bars and the dark pit that separated them. The joker could just barely see the dark knight.

"What are you doing, Bats?" He called out, as loud as his voice would allow. To his surprise, the Batman turned his head, ever so slightly to the Joker. If anyone actually saw this, it would look like the Batman wasn't looking at the Joker, but rather at the floor. The Joker knew better, and his grin grew wide.

"Did something happen, Brucy?"The Joker asked, cringing at the slight warble in his voice that showed desperation.

By the batman, a dark form appeared, memories, that turned to Alfred. Alfred laughing, Alfred tying a young Bruce's shoe...

The Joker quickly caught on that something was indeed wrong and not funny. At least, not to the Dark Knight.

However, all he saw was an advantage. And he was going to take it, no matter the cost. The Joker laughed as a plan formed in his mind.

Bruce-y boy will never see this coming


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Review. REVIEWWW! *goes crazy from review withdrawal***

The Joker got closer to the bars, long nose in between them and grin pressed against the. To his surprise, the cage lurched, slightly, and moved just barely a few centimeters.

Batman then turned to him, eyes dark. The Clown could barely even see the whites of his eyes.

"Did someone kill Alfred?" The Joker asked, casually putting his arms through the bars beside his face.

The only reply the Bat returned to him was a growl, something deep, almost animalistic, and something the Joker's never heard before, at least from him.

"Did you catch him?" He asked, voice quieter and less rough that before. Again, the Dark Knight didn't answer, but he looked away. He knew Bats enough to read his thoughts through his silence and his movements, so the answer was pretty obvious.

"He got away..." Joker said, letting his voice trail off. He pulled his arms back through the bars and hung them at his sides.

Once again, the Batman didn't reply, but took back to only staring at the Joker, posture stiff and eyes cold.

"You are going to track him down, aren't you?" The Joker asked, staring back at the Dark Knight and slightly adjusting his stance. "Bruce, the least you can do is answer me..."

With those words, the Batman turned away, walking back down the dark corridor.

"If you need me, you know where to find me." The Clown said, before Bruce could disappear.

Batman gave only slight pause, listening to the Joker's words, waiting for more.

"I'm sorry, Bruce, I really am." The Joker added, in a tone that genuinely sounded sincere. After he vanished from sight completely, the vacant grin on the Joker's face grew wide.

He had the Bats right where he wanted him.

Bruce woke much later than usual, the need for rest being too great for him to ignore. Sore, he stretched his back as best as he could in the limited space of his car, the Lamborghini, before rubbing his head, painfully aware of a steadily growing headache that centered behind his eyes.

He looked in the rearview mirror and studied his reflection as he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. A young beard grew scraggly from his chin, little grey stubbles were scattered along the growing facial hair. Dark bags had formed under his eyes, making him, in his own opinion, look older than usual. The man in the mirror seemed to him nothing short of a stranger.

Bruce sighed and look from the mirror at the hood, where a bluejay had landed. He allowed his thoughts to wander from his appearance to other matters. Matters away from Alfred's death, hopefully, but his mind chose differently and all he could think about was the death of the old man who raised Bruce, who gave him wisdom and who help him...

Instead of thinking of all the good memories of Alfred, other memories came to his mind... The murder of Alfred Pennyworth. A chuckle, deep and ringing, echoed throughout his mind, pulled him into thought as Bruce Wayne stared at the forest ahead wordlessly.

He blinked as he returned from the unsettling, albeit short, conversation with the Joker.

Not much time could have passed, maybe even less than a few seconds, because the bird on his hood was still there, this time just staring at him. Without looking away, Bruce turned on the car and watched as the bird took flight and left him.

It was only a short drive to Wayne Manor from the little off road he had stopped on last night. Alfred's death had been little over two weeks ago, and Bruce hadn't been to the Wayne Manor, or what was left of it, since the funeral.

The only reason Bruce as even going back to the Manor was to get to the Batcave, to use the main computer.

The Manor itself was nothing but rubble, blown up the night of the Arkham Knight. He and Alfred got out, of course and took a secret route back into the city, where they hid and waited, for transport away from Gotham.

Bruce pulled up the driveway and stared at the charcoal remains before turning off the car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey... You know what would go great with that lovely shirt you have on and those great shoes?**

 **A review...**

Silently, Bruce navigated his way around the ashes and broken glass until he reached the greenhouse, which somehow survived most of the blast and fire. The far wall stood strong, glass panes cracked but still slotted in.

Making sure he didn't step on any nails or broken glass shards, he made his way to the well, the first way he ever got into the cave.

Carefully, he pulled up the burnt board, avoiding the burnt splinters, and set them aside the well. Bruce peered down in the dark, seeing nothing, but hearing the fluttering of nearby bat wings.

He pulled out a small flashlight and shone it down the well before swinging his legs over the wall and he started to climb down carefully, using his teeth to hold the light steady.

About halfway down the well, Bruce realised it would have been smart to have brought some sort of climbing gear with him.

And with that thought, Bruce's grip slipped and he began to fall, into darkness.

Bruce cried out as a sharp edge of rock hit his side, right where he had been shot by the Arkham Knight. He groaned and rolled to his side, which was a mistake.

He started to roll down a steep drop, rolling quite a few feet lower than where he started. Bruce held his side for a few minutes, sucking in deep breaths and waiting for the pain to subside.

A little voice in his head- his own, not the Joker's- told him to get up and push past the pain. As he did, a flurry of bat wings echoed through the cavern as the winged creatures flew over him, some hitting him in various, already bruised, places. Bruce fliched slightly and began to raise his arms in defense, but the bats started to either make their way out of the cave to other areas of the massive caverns.

As the crowd of bats thinned out and only a few were left flying around him, Bruce made his way down the slope, shining his light around the cave. Roots and vines came down from the ceiling and were as thick as his upper arm. The ground was jagged and cracked, the slope created by larger roots under slabs of rock.

Most of the cave was different from when he last saw it, the walls, ceiling and roots changed by Ivy's plants. Bruce thought that her plants reached a little farther than the outskirts of Gotham, all the way to the Manor. He hoped that none of the tech had been compromised as he stepped over roots, avoiding them out of respect.

He slowly made his way over to a more familiar area of the Batcave and avoided move bats, who seemed to enjoy hanging on the low vines and roots. A slight smile was on his face as he saw that the bats were adjusted to the new environment.

Thankfully, none of the plants had come near the main computer, or any of the electronics themselves, had been touched by any of the plant life. Bruce pulled up the chair and sat down, booting up the computer and beginning his search.

 **As I have said before, in other fanfics, I'm not above begging for reviews**

 **(Although that is a lovely shirt)**


	4. Chapter 4

**So I couldn't log in yesterday to upload this, sorry. But I wrote this part while we watch The Wizard of Oz in class, which I absolutely hate. But yeah, next chapter is mostly done, expect it soon!**

Bats was on the move. He could tell. Don't ask him how; he couldn't even explain it himself! Just somehow, he knew. He suppose it was the same part of him that knew that Bruce was doing something else to shut him up. Didn't he give him blood poisoning, a long time ago? That's why he truly came into being, that and Scarecrow's toxin.

" _I really got to hand it to Scarecrow. I've never been a fan of his concoctions before, but this batch, it's... intoxicating… It really brings out the me in you…. Hhehehe Hooooo…"_ The Joker laughed along with the memory; soft chuckles that quickly turned into loud cackles that echoed through the dark of Bruce's mind.

Bruce groaned as he held his head through the ninja like mask. The headache that had been steadily bothering him for the last few days had began throbbing out of nowhere, seeming to ring through his head. He could faintly hear the echo of the Joker's laughter as he took down another criminal, one of Two-Face's henchmen. He timed his punched with the throbs and gritted his teeth, ignoring it.

He was taking down a lone group of three, dressed in the usual wear of Two-Face's crew.

Bruce himself wasn't wearing the Batsuit, and he almost felt naked naked with out it… Exposed, even though he was just as armored. He was wearing something similar to the outfits of members of the League of Shadows, only changed slightly, and none in appearance.

Slowly, he turned to the last conscience criminal and grabbed the man by the shoulders, hauling him by the shoulders, hauling him into the air. The criminal struggled, wriggling to try to get free. Bruce freed a hand and quickly grabbed him by the neck.

"What'da want?" The man gasped out, grabbing Bruce's forearms.

"Where's Two-Face?" He growled into a voice modulator. The henchman heard something deep and dark, almost animalistic, much different from Batman.

"Look, man, I don't know, I just-" Bruce cut off the man, squeezing harder, until his trachea closed.

The criminal squirmed and kicked his feet at Bruce, desperately trying to make him let go of the henchman's throat. But Bruce continued to squeeze, even after the man passed out.

He found himself just staring at the criminal, his fist clenched tight. With a silent gasp, Bruce pulled his arms away and released his fingers, letting the man fall to the ground.

The man started wheezing loudly, trying to catch his breath. "He's… With the… Penguin…"

"Was that so difficult?" Bruce asked, making sure his voice was covered in sarcasm, so he could remain undetected.

The criminal looked at him before Bruce lurched forward, knocking him out.

He grabbed the henchman and dragged him to the end of the alleyway, where he quickly tied tall three together.

Bruce climbed the fire escape of a nearby building as a lonely police siren echoed through the silent night and made his head throb even more.

"Stop there." The strong voice of Robin called out. Bruce turned around and spotted Tim on a rooftop nearby, a story higher.

"You shouldn't be out." Bruce said, catching himself scolding Tim slightly before he realized he was disguised.

Robin flipped down from the rooftop and went over to Bruce, holding his staff threateningly. "Who are you?"

Bruce grabbed the rod and forced it down, holding it when Robin tried to force it back up. "You have a gunshot wound. You should rest."

With his free hand, Bruce reached up and pulled off the mask, exposing his face to Robin. Tim did the same, pulling down his hood, and relaxing his stance. "You should be too. I wasn't the only one who got shot."

"I have work to do." Bruce said gruffly, releasing Tim's rod.

"Bruce, the streets are mostly clean. Dick and I can take care of them, you should go back to the safe-"

"No." Bruce said, cutting him off. "I have work to do."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds, staring at him. "You aren't going after him, are you? You need rest. Barbara's tracking him down-"

"I've already pinpointed his current location." Bruce said, interrupting Tim yet again.

"Bruce, you look absolutely terrible, it's bad enough you've been disappearing during the day. You need to sleep."

"I'm fine." Bruce said, putting his mask back on.

"No, you're not! You need to rest, I'll drag you back to the safe house-" Robin made a gesture to the general area of the safe house and glanced over, " get you there myself."

Tim looked at Bruce, or rather where Bruce used to be.

"Dammit Bruce…" He muttered as he replaced his hood and became Robin again. "We're only trying to help you."


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce waited on the fire escape until he saw Robin leave, going the way he came from.

A few minutes had passed when Bruce pulled out his grappling hook and zipped up to the next building, making his way across Gotham slowly.

About half an hour later, he had made his way over to the edge of wheat Penguin claimed as his own territory, although reports had been sparse at best.

Bruce avoided perching on gargoyles and he stationed himself on a fire escape, waiting for some thug to come by to interrogate.

Hours had passed and the dawn was just barely breaking through the clouds when Bruce finally saw one of the Penguin's men came through the alley way.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes as he watched the man. Bruce was exhausted, and his headache was becoming a borderlining migraine.

He took a deep breath as he ignored his bodily limitations and jumped down, right in the path of the henchman.

"Batma- What?!" The henchman asked, frightened. He took a few steps back, almost stumbling and falling. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter." Bruce said as he approached the man. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Do what? You want money, here take it!" He said as he struggled to get his wallet out.

"I want to know where Penguin is." Bruce said calmly, shoving the criminal against a brick wall. The criminal gasped at the sudden screws that were pressing into his back.

"Penguin?! He's in jail!" He said as he tried to get away from the wall. Bruce pushed him back.

"I know he broke out a few days ago. Now, where's he hiding?" Bruce demanded.

"I don't know nothing!" The henchmen claimed. Bruce scoffed and grabbed him by the shoulders, throwing him to the ground.

"Where is he?" Bruce growled, stepping on the man's sternum.

"I don't know! Really!" He said, grabbing Bruce's armored foot and trying to force him off.

"We can do this the hard way, if you want…" Bruce said threatenly, moving his foot up to the man's throat.

"Okay! Okay!" He said, starting to struggle to breath. "He's at a warehouse in North otham! The Bowery!"

"North Gotham has been closed off since Arkham City." Bruce said as he put more pressure on his foot.

"No…" The man gasped out. "He's there… I swear…"

"You better not be lying…" Bruce said as he removed his foot. "Because if you're not… I'll find you, and I'll kill you."

 **Short chapter. I know you guys don't like them, but I felt like I had to end it there. Anyway, I think a chapter a day or so is a good pace. Expect more soon!**

 **Also, who else do you think Bruce should talk to? The Commissioner? Two-Face? Just say!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter 6 reuploaded. Tell me what you think.**

Bruce struggled to climb on to the rooftop, thankfully out of the sight of the criminal, who had probably ran at the first chance he got.

As soon as he actually made it up the fire escape, he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and landing on his knees, hard. Bruce watched his fingers in front of him as they started to spin, making him dizzy and wanting to throw up. His feet felt further away from his head than they actually were…Gravity was pulling on him in different, unfair directions, stretching him out, thinning him... The ground felt as if it were rocking, rolling back and forth under him, like the stone had morphed into waves. The wind felt like ice against his skin and Bruce fell forward, into darkness.

The Joker idly scratched at the surface of a wall in his cell, determined to make the words 'I hate Frankie" go away. Well, he was determined a few hours ago, now he was just bored. At Least now it read 'I ate Frank'.

The cell shifted on it's rail that supported it above the pit and the Joker looked away from his work, dropping the glass shard, and looked at the door of the cell, through the bars. He grinned and went over to the door, stepping on and breaking the glass. "Did you catch him yet, Bruce?"

As the cell moved, gears above squeaking and grinding against cold metal, the Joker could better see a figure in the distance, pointy ears giving it away. "Do you want some pointers and tips to help you out, Bats?"

Another figure appeared, by the stoic Batman. The Dark Knight didn't even turn his cowl covered head as another figure formed completely from the black mist that sat in the background.

"Bruce?" The Joker asked, admittedly confused. With a slight smirk, he remembered his current situation. "Are you have a bit of an identity crisis?"

Bruce furrowed his brow as Joker's cell came closer. He turned his gaze from the approaching cell and looked at Batman. It felt… Weird, to say the least, to see himself, or rather the Batman just standing there, staring ahead as if he were made of stone.

"What?" Bruce asked, surprising himself. His voice sounded years younger, almost like before he was Batman.

"Bruce-y boy, I think you're going crazy…" The Joker said in a sing-songy voice. "Talking to yourself… And I thought I was coocoo! Hahahaha!" He said, laughing loudly.

Bruce turned to the Joker and his cell stopped moving. "What do you want, Joker?"

The Joker laughed loudly at Bruce's failed attempted to sound gruff. "You sound like a teenager! You're the one who's losing it, not me. I didn't drag you back in here…"

Bruce looked away from the Joker and the Joker laughed again, pressing his face through the bars. The cell lurched slightly and Bruce looked back, stopping it in it's tracks. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything. This is your mind, isn't it?" The Joker asked. "But you know, you can let me out, and I'll help you out…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Ghoticism- That's actually suppose to be a dirty joke… Because people ship that and I don't know why! So, dirty jokes!**

 **The Grey Ghoul- Actually, I was trying to hint at this, I don't know how well I did it, but basically, ninja!suit Bruce isn't Batman… There's probably not going to be any Batman in this story except in Bruce's head.**

"No." The Batman said gruffly, from Bruce's right. Bruce looked at him, briefly, almost surprised the Dark Knight could talk.

"Bats, I'm not talking to you." The Joker said. "Run off and play while the adults talk…"

The Batman scowled at Joker as Bruce looked almost blankly into the space, actually thinking about the pros and cons of letting the Clown out. Batman sensed this and turned to the young man.

"Don't. The Joker will kill hundreds if you let him out."

"But Alfred's killer will go unharmed…" The Joker pointed out. "Bats here isn't as good as delivering true justice as you think. Remember all the times he failed? All the times he let you down?"

"He will make you kill." Batman said, glancing at the swaying cell.

"Oh, way to sound like a broken record, Batman." The joker said. "At least I have more than one valid point.

"This isn't a debate." The Batman said.

"And this isn't up to you." Joker all but snarled. He wasn't going to let Bat-Guano-for-Brains harm his chances of getting out. "Bruce, you need some real justice."

"Real justice isn't about revenge. " The Batman rebuked.

"Again with the interrupting, Bats! At first you would never talk, and now, you won't shut up!" The Joker said angrily. "I'm trying to talk to Bruce! Wait your turn!"

The Dark Knight began to talk again, but Bruce held a hand up, surprisingly silencing Batman. Behind the bars, the Joker's grin returned.

"You need real help. Someone who knows the ins and outs of criminals, right? The flying rat can't do that, he just beats up people! And not very effectively, mind you…" The Joker said, and the cell moved slightly closer to the metal platform. "I'll help you! Track down Alfred's killer, do what needs to be done, and then I'll be gone, promise!"

"It's all lies." Batman said to Bruce. "He won't go away, he'll kill as many people as he can."

"But Alfred's murderer needs to be stopped." Bruce said in a low, quiet, voice, which made the Joker grin even more. He was unsure, and unsure was a weak point, an advantage.

"You need to be strong, and not give in." The Batman said as he turned to face Bruce. "you can't let the Joker go and become like him. You can't let him win."

The Clown rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Alfred deserves more than what he's going to do!" He said, sticking his arm out of the bars and making a casual waving gesture to the Bat. "The guy who did this _deserves_ proper punishment. Just like the man who killed your parents, Bruce…"

Bruce looked at the cell and it started to move again, emerging from the darkness completely.

 **Again, tell me if you think this chapter needs rewritten!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm currently working on fleshing out chapter seven and changing a few things, so it'll be updated some time, hopefully soon! Until then, here's a new chapter.**

The Joker could barely hide his grin as Bruce and the Batman came closer, or rather as he was brought closer to them. He didn't care about the technicalities now. The gears above squeaked and groaned against rusted track and swayed softly in some sort of mental breeze. The Bat was watched the oncoming cell carefully, stepping closer to the end of the platform.

Batman swiftly pressed a sole button, labelled exit, and the cell came to a screeching, slow, stop.

"Bats, what are you doing?!" Joker snarled as he grabbed the bars, throwing his body against the door with all his bodily power, causing the cell to swing forward on its pivot. He was so close to freedom; he could almost taste the city's smog on his tongue, hear car horns as explosives rocked the streets and feel the warm handle of a cold steel blade.

"You're never getting out of there." He said darkly to the Joker before turning to Bruce. "I'm not going to let you let him out."

"He could help get Alfred's murderer." Bruce said, and this time the Joker couldn't help but let out a small grin. The billionaire boy was on his side, and all he needed was to get rid of the Bat, once and for all.

Of course, that was easy said than done.

"There are other, better ways to deal with this than letting him go." The Batman said, taking a step towards Bruce.

"Like what? String him up and wait for the police to arrive?" Bruce asked angrily. "Lock them up and wait for them to break out again?"

The Bat stared silently at Bruce for a moment, then something that the Joker honestly didn't expect happened. It was hard to tell, from where he stood in the cell, who swung first.

As fights go, this one actually bored the Joker, even though both Bruce and Batman were obviously trained fighters, but they both knew each other's moves. Well, the Batman knew Bruce's moves, and dodged each attempted kick and failed punch with ease. Only after a few minutes of evading, Batman decided to act back.

Grabbing Bruce's oncoming fist, he quickly delivered a swift punch back, homing on Bruce's face. The Joker winced slightly as he saw the young man stumble back from a blow that could easily given concussions to thugs and other lowlifes. But Bruce shook it off and attacked Batman, hitting him low and in the gut.

He took the blows and grabbed Bruce by the shoulders, pushing him off and knocking him hard against the railings that separated the steel platform from a dark abyss that went on forever.

Bruce wheezed slightly as he pulled himself up from the attack, slightly wounded but able to get back up and fight.

"Come on, Bruce! Don't let this… _Bully_ stop you!" The Joker called from the cell. Bit by bit, slow and steady, the cell began to move again. It was a lot slower than before, but Batbrain didn't even notice it. The Joker chuckled gleefully as he got closer to freedom and the surrounding areas somehow got darker.

As he was laughing, Bruce's and the Batman's fight continued, until Batman finally got a proper hold of Bruce, one hand around his neck. Bruce fought back really the only way he could; by kicking the Dark Knight.

"I didn't want to do this, but you left me no choice." Batman said as he inflicted a straight punch to Bruce, knocking the young man out. Carefully, he laid Bruce on the floor, making sure he was okay.

The Batman looked around in slight surprise at the darkened area, lit only above his head. He heard the cell squeaking and the Joker laughing in the darkness.

"Never say never, Bats!" The Joker said, laughing, as he jumped out of the darkness, holding a broken piece of glass.

 **There! New chapter! So, I'm going to take a nap, and when I come back, I expect a review from each and everyone of you! What's going to happen? Got any questions? How's the weather? Please review and make my nap worthwhile!**


	9. Chapter 9

**The reason that I'm not really taking the time to edit the chapters or taking more time to post them is because if I don't push myself to write everyday and post every other day or so, I know what's going to happen to this story, and trust me, you don't want that to happen. It's happened to all my other stories:**

 **It's going to be pushed to the back of my mind, and it will die.**

 **Don't worry if you think I'm not going to fix certain things, I'm going to! As soon as this story is officially done, it's getting rewritten as soon as the last chapter has been poster, I promise. The chapters are going to be long, it's going to be more clear, and I think you're going to like it.**

 **But until then, I'm just going to post chapters like boom boom boom, so you can tell me what's wrong, and what I need to fix.**

 **Also- None of you know this, until now, but I have pretty bad depression… So that's one of the reasons that my schedule of postings before this was wack; I couldn't really get myself to work on it… It's complicated, so I'm not going to explain it, but those who have had depression or currently have it know what I'm talking about.**

 **Also there's a lot of other stuff going on… Like finding out who I am, because somedays, I feel like a girl and other days, more like a boy. I think at this point I'm agender, but other people disagree (although that mostly seems to be because I have big boobs, so I must be a girl, right? And I wear v-neck shirts that show off said boobs, but that can't be because I find them comfortable…).**

 **I don't know. People, am I right?**

 **Sorry for ranting about my personal crap…**

 **Here's chapter nine. Idk how many chapters after this, but I can't imagine there's too many more.**

 **Oh, and these ~~~ thingys are now going to show a change in pov.**

He woke up to the gentle sound of two people talking a room away. Well, more like bickering. He could tell right away that the voices belonged to Tim and Barbara, though he couldn't really tell what they were talking about, because his mind was a bit thick with sleep.

He sighed once and briefly nuzzled into the soft warm sheets of the bed before sitting up and ignoring the dizzy rush of blood that flooded his veins. He slowly pulled the covers before setting to feet on the floor, expecting to stand up swiftly, but instead he fell, face forward into a wall.

 **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~joke's on you... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Tim came into the room after hearing him fall, Barbara behind him. "Bruce, you're sick." Tim said as he went over to the bed and offered a hand to help Bruce up.

Bruce stared ahead, at the wall, seeming to not hear or register Tim's words. Tim sighed and crouched down, pressing the back of his hand to Bruce's forehead. Tim knew that if he had been in his right mind, Bruce would have probably pushed him away. He did roll his eyes up to meet Tim's, however, with a slightly glassy look.

Tim could have sworn for a second that they were green, but Bruce's eyes flickered away before he could make sure.

"How's his temperature?" Barbara asked as Tim pulled his hand away and stood up.

"It's higher." Tim said with a sigh, keeping his eyes on Bruce. Surprisingly, he wasn't sweating very much for someone with that high of a temperature, but he was very pale.

"We need to take him to the hospital." Barbara said softly, bringing up their argument from earlier.

"We can't." Tim said as he watched Bruce turn so he was slumped against the wall instead of laying awkwardly on his side. He looked at both of them, but Tim presumed he was well out of it. "Bruce Wayne is officially dead, we can't do that to him."

"But if we don't, then he might actually die." Barbara sternly said, changing her tone. "You know my dad will try and help to keep this secret."

"Barbara, I'm sorry, but even the Commissioner wouldn't be able to keep something like this quiet."

"Then we'll make sure it's small… Maybe bring in a doctor or a nurse here to take care of him?" Barbara suggested.

"Maybe… If we get the right doctor." Tim said, thinking of a plan. "Does your dad know about any good doctors who will keep quiet about this?"

"Yeah… I think I know of one… I'll give him a call and -" Barbara's words were cut off from a chuckling snort from Bruce. Both Tim and Barbara looked at him with concern and confusion.

Bruce's quiet chuckling soon started to turn to louder cackling. Barbara's expression turned from concern to horrified and scared.

"He's probably hallucinating." Tim said quickly, crouching again at Bruce's side.

"I'm calling my dad." Barbara said and she started to wheel out of the room. The laughing stopped and they looked at Bruce, Bruce looking up at Tim with a menacing grin.

"Surprise!" He called out, laughing, as he sprung up and shoved Tim backwards and started heading towards Barbara.

 **Edit: I added in these~~~~things where they're suppose to go, because stupid fanfiction edited them out. Stahp it fanfiction!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, been busy… Won't go into detail, personal stuff.**

 **But, I'm going to answer some questions: For getting people to read the second draft… Keep an eye out, I have a trick. Oh, and I was just trying to be sarcastic in the last author's note, I only wear those shirts because they're comfortable, as they're made of a certain fabric, that I can't find in any other types of shirts… For the topic of bewbs and showing them off, I believe women should be able to wear whatever they want, and boys should be taught that boobs really aren't all that and women aren't objects. In some African cultures, women don't wear shirts at all, and guys don't care about their chest. I want that, here.**

 **Anyway, I've felt agender since I was five or so. For everybody to know, agender is basically not assigning yourself to any gender. The only reason I wear female specific clothing is because of cost, and said big boobs. If I could wear whatever I wanted, money not mattering, I would totally be wearing three piece suits all the time.**

He walked quickly, under the cover of the dark, face covered up so no one would recognize him. He mumbled quietly under his breath. Any passerby would just assume he was a madman. Too many in this town, far too many.

"Bruce, I said I was sorry…" The Joker said as he almost skipped beside him. "I had to get us out of there, didn't I? Now, why don't you take us to that Bat Cave of yours, so we can get started?"

"We can't go there." Bruce mumbled through one of Tim's coat's collar. "Tim and Barbara know where it is and they would find us. If they're still alive." He said, glaring at the Joker.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise they are?" The Joker asked with a slight smirk. "Not that I can, anyway…"

"Let's make a deal, okay? No more taking over me." Bruce said in a low tone.

"Oh, come on, Brucey boy… How am I supposed to help you if…" The clown stopped when he felt a hard glare directed at him. "Oh, fine! But if we get into trouble again, don't say I didn't tell you so."

Bruce huffed and continued walking in a fast pace. The Joker followed, side-stepping some people as they walked by. A block later, the Joker found a question jingling about in his thoughts.

"So, where are we going, anyway?" He asked.

"Someplace." Bruce answered. "A hideout no one knows about."

"Did Bats have them all over the city?"

Bruce scoffed at the Joker's tone and walked on, the clown following in his stead. Gotham herself watching, as the pair traveled down the dark garbage filled roads, the moon shining through pollution on the empty shell of Gotham's protector and the man who terrorized her.

Police Commissioner Gordon stared at the phone after hanging up. He had called Barbara's cell several times, just to check in. he'd been doing so more than often, after that night. The night she nearly died and he nearly lost everything.

Every time he called, she answered, even if the conversation was less than a minute long, brought comfort to him, knowing that his little girl was safe.

But this was the third time he called, with no answer. It was dark out, but not late. She should have answered, why wasn't she answering?

Gordon's thoughts turned to the worse as he stared at the phone, hands gripping the the back of his seat and knuckles turning white. He took a breath and grabbed his coat.

After a second's thought, he grabbed his gun as well.

Barbara's apartment was about seven minutes from the station with light traffic. With heavy maybe up to thirty. Friday nights were always heavy, even now with a third of the population still gone. Jim Gordon made it in five minutes, mounting the curb most of the way there. He could just tell something was wrong.

He slammed the door of the borrowed police cruiser shut, leaving the flashing blue and red lights on, as he ran up to her door and pounded on it.

"Barbara?" He asked loudly. There was no answer.

Without thinking twice, he tried the door, even more worried when it wasn't locked. His breath caught in his throat, creating a lump, as he stepped into the livingroom.

Glass crunched under his foot as he moved towards the bedroom. Gordon looked at the broken coffee table and all he could think about was Barbara getting shot… Getting hurt…

He raised his gun and continued to move through, to the bedroom, taking a glance in the empty kitchen first. Just before the doorway, he saw his daughter, laying on her side with her wheelchair on her leg.

"Barbara!" He yelled, lump in his throat growing. He ran over to her, kneeling beside her and casting his gun aside. A tear ran down the wrinkles of his face as he carefully cradled her, on arm under her, pulling her up carefully.

"Barbara?" He asked silently, reaching his free hand to brush back some hair from her forehead, revealing a gash in her skin, blood leaking slowly in her hair, pooling by her ear.

He began to check her pulse and almost began to cry as he searched for it.

Before he could even locate her pulse, where it should be, there was a small groan from the other room. With the reflexes of someone half his age, Gordon grabbed his gun, aiming it towards the source.

Tim Drake sat awkwardly against the bed, face almost as pale as the white sheets covering the bed and the blood running down his cheek was joined by a spot of blood on the wall, next to the bathroom doorway.

Gordon put down his gun, shakily, as Tim's eyes opened briefly before closing again. He looked at Tim before pulling out his phone and calling for help.

 **I will leave with one last thing: Never trust someone who paints themselves as a white knight.**


End file.
